


Delicate Balance

by Allronix



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010), Tron: Uprising
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allronix/pseuds/Allronix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always “Administrator,” sometimes “Luminary” or “Liberator” these days. Never “lover” or “friend,” but he could make do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate Balance

He was created above and apart from other Programs. Always _”Administrator”_ and never the softer titles - friend, lover, bondmate.

Clu remembers the first flash of jealousy. He was still in Beta, still waking up to how the world around him worked. And he would see it out the corner of his eye. He had his Creator’s spark and honored his face. He was Flynn’s chosen avatar in the system, with his Creator’s memories as well. And yet, even knowing all of what Flynn knew, he couldn’t be part of that bond between Flynn and Tron. A shared smile, a string he had no reference for, a long moment where his Creator and Tron would just look at one another and burst into laughter with wide, goofy smiles. It took several full cycles before he had a label to place on the feeling.

Clu was avatar, administrator, _Program_. Tron was _friend._

He knew his duty and his place and that he outranked the Champion, but his attempts to grow closer to Tron were rebuffed. Part of it was decorum, but every time he was addressed as “Administrator,” the small spark of jealousy would flare again. Tron was _friend_ to the Creator, beloved as much as his damned Isos.

It’s why Tron had to be destroyed with them. Like the Isos, most of him was destroyed in the Coup, Dyson’s “handiwork” leaving the scars he now traces with a single gold-lit finger as Rinzler kneels by his throne.

Blind luck let Tron get away for a few cycles after the Coup, but Clu was persistent. As soon as he found out Tron was still alive, destroying him became top priority.

 

* * *

 

_Argon City burned with virtual flame all around them. Recognizers blasted skyscrapers. The System Guard de-rezzed any who still had white circuitry. He had Tessler arrested – Pavel told him everything. Tessler's other lieutenant ran into the city – presumed de-rezzed, but she wasn't important enough to bother with. Let this city and its pathetic attempt to challenge him stand as an example to anyone else. The order was to wipe it from the face of the Grid._

“ _I found him, Luminary!” Dyson's voice._

_Surrounded by the decaying voxels of a small army, he lay motionless, circuitry flickering out. The disc in his left hand and the “T” identifier without apprentice bands told them they were not dealing with that imposter – this was the genuine article. Deactivating the helmet confirmed it._

_Clu stood there, disc in hand. Helpless. One headshot and he would be dead. He saw Dyson ready his own disc with the same thought in mind._

“ _Dyson, no.”_

_If it was the same, pure hate he felt for the Isos, he would have gladly thrown his disc through Tron’s chest and been done with it. Many cycles on, he would wonder why he didn’t but he knows the answer._

“ _Find a medical pod. We'll finish what we started.”_

_Dyson looks between them, then does as he is told._

_Clu is Flynn’s echo, reflection, avatar. Without Tron, there wouldn’t be Flynn. As much as he hates this enemy, destroying him would destroy them both._

* * *

  


Rectification was exceedingly difficult and tedious. Even weakened by Dyson, covered in scars, without allies, and with his attempted uprising in shambles, he was still putting up a fight. Tron was made from a different User, a more cautious one who left few loopholes to exploit. To make Rinzler took extensive, frustrating, and still imperfect patches to the disc, eventually culminating in the Sequencer that masked the first disc with a second. The Sequencer makes him twice as efficient at a relatively small energy cost, which always keeps him coming back.

Clu isn't ashamed that forced interface was part of the process while Rinzler was being built. The frustration, the rage, the need to _break_ and _control_ this frustrating piece of software at every level possible became obsession. Rinzler would thrash against his bonds, curse in hex code, attempt to wall off energy; a fight every time.

Clu puts a hand on the joined discs and his charge whimpers. No, there won't be pain – not this time – but it never hurts to remind his pet who holds the leash. He will never be called _friend_ , but he was good at puzzling out what he _could_ get from a situation, even if it was a shallow parody of what his User had.

 

* * *

 

  


_It had become a ritual by now, the same frustration over and over each microcycle. - Tron strapped to a rectification rack, the circular stand that was held upright with its target in a stress positon, but could be tilted, rotated, or lain on the floor, depending on what was needed. Not as elegant as the rectification chambers, but better disc access and exposure for “tough” cases. The first thing Clu did upon obtaining his prisoner was to apply the sparking end of a Rod to his throat to destroy his voice. Too much risk of his voice being recognized, and the defeated Champion wasn't going to need a voice after Clu was finished, anyway. He kept his “project” a top secret in the furthest subbasement of the command tower, and planted a few ridiculous rumors about the project – an Iso gone feral, Flynn himself, the remains of Abraxas – to make the reality of it sound like just another insane rumor._

_His circuitry was the faintest blue-white, dimmed greatly. Clu set his jaw in frustration. There was an energy font here, and all that hard work would be gone if he starved. But he also knew why that stubborn, stupid script would choose it. Running out of energy was still going to mean de-rez, and his respite from it in Argon wasn't going to stick._

_So Clu would have to come down here and force feed energy, strapping him the to floor and shoving a funnel into his mouth if he felt nice about it. Strapping him to the floor and forcing his own energy into Tron's shell if he didn't feel charitable. Something that was commonly treated as an act of care and intimacy was stripped of all its sentiment and pretension down to its perfect form – an act of dominance and a utilitarian energy exchange that both brutalized his charge and kept him alive._

_Clu was enraged this cycle; rumors of his creator emerging from the Outlands, refugees from Argon putting together a ragtag distraction of an army. Nothing was going to plan, nothing was going according to schedule. And he could blame a lot of that on the pathetic ruin of a script strapped to the rack in front of him._

_He barely looked up._

_Clu marched up and backhanded him. “I am the one trying to keep this System alive.”_

_He pulled his disc and heard the satisfying whine when it activated. “ **I am** the one that spent their entire runtime here. I am the one who has always looked out for them – who **cares** for them.”_

_He jammed the disc into Tron's shoulder, leaving a deep gouge. Shattered voxels and energy leaked on the floor. There wasn't a scream – of course – broken vocal output. How unsatisfying._

_Clu delivered a knee to Tron's abdomen, causing him to double over as much as he could. Funny. No struggle or attempt to flinch._

“ _I gave them their freedom – no longer bowing to that stupid User. I eliminated the Isos collapsing our system – no purpose, no directive. The cities are safer than they've ever been, the Games are stocked with contestants. Energy flows. I have given them everything! I have done everything that has ever been asked of me, carried out my directive to the letter!”_

_He punctuated his complaints with fists and disc slices. Every scrap of rage focused with the laser's precision onto the one target he had._

“ _And still they love you. They can only **fear** me!” _

_With that, he sliced clean through the left arm – Tron's fighting hand – and watched it smash to the floor in a cascade of broken little chunks. He hangs on the rectification rack like a broken doll, and Clu undoes the bonds. Ungracefully, he face-plants on the floor._

“ _Damn it, and you're not even...”_

_It was like a disc sync completed. The rage did an abrupt shift to confusion. “You aren't even fighting back anymore.”_

_He turned his enemy over. The circuitry was flickering out, and there was no struggle, no reaction, just dulled gray eyes glazed over in pain and wide with fear, silently begging for the struggle to end. _

_**Perfectly broken** . _

_And Clu realized he could not hate this…creation of his, as much as the face of Tron made him seethe. There was nothing of his foe left in the broken shell. No fight, no anger, little spark, barely alive, leaking what little energy he had on the floor and flickering out._

“ _No...” He could not build, but he could **re** -build. Gently, he reached out and touched the T-shaped identifier, infusing some of his own power. It would be enough to keep him from fading out. _

_Clu could code up simple things – a rag and a bowl – and activate the energy fountain. He took the rag and soaked it in energy, slowly dripping it into wounds, watching the color come back into the circuitry._

“ _You stopped fighting me. That's good. I didn't want you to fight me.”_

_His eyes squeezed shut and he went limp, resigned to whatever his master wished to do with him. Clu took the surrender as a good sign. Like having to destroy an Iso colony or leveling Argon to faded pixels, his enemy had been cleared away and left him the tools to rebuild._

_Clu healed the wounds and staunched the energy leaks. The arm would require a more extensive re-code, but it could wait. “That's good. See? You stop fighting me and I can help you.” He stroked a flickering line of circuits to emphasize the point, gently infusing it with power and watching it flare back to life._

_Grid circuitry was minimal, mostly covered. It was considered gauche to show excessive circuits. There was little need for showy identifiers or marks of social class here on a closed system, but Tron had beautiful circuitry – an old Encom pattern befitting a Champion – ornate and delicate. As a courtesy, he had hidden his identifiers under his armor, but had no armor here, and Clu flared with desire as he activated each new line, overcharging them. Despite the scarring and missing arm, he had a beautiful shell to work with._

“ _That's it.” Clu whispered. “Accept it.”_

_When he accepted the touch, arching into Clu's palm, accepting interface willingly - that was when Clu knew he had won._

 

* * *

  


Rinzler is still dangerous, requiring constant maintenance and manipulation. Pain to induce fear and him obedient. Sending him into the games to kill the ones he once would fight for and forced interface behind closed doors to induce hate that keeps him effective. But just enough gentleness to keep him loyal and reward his obedience. If he miscalculates, Tron could seize control and murder him in his sleep. Yet it’s a risk Clu is willing to accept because the alternative is worse.

Always “Administrator,” sometimes “Luminary” or “Liberator” these days. Never “lover” or “friend,” but he could make do.

**Author's Note:**

> For angry-trumpet-sounds on tumblr. The prompt:  “I wish I could hate you.”
> 
> I'm not sure how this fits into Endgame Scenario, so technically it's not going there


End file.
